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We Of Lavish Faith
Pandora, When you can please file this letter and make copies of it. When the Chantrymates are ready, please pass out copies of them. I'd like to see what they make of the writer. Thank you. Sam. Introduction Dame Samantha Wainbridge The Wainbridge Institute of Higher Learning October 09, 2016 Dame Samantha, I know what you do. I suspect what you are. Having now, I believe, efficiently garnered your attention, I pen this missive to you now only in order to pay a debt that you have no knowledge of and thus hope to spare both of us the wearying burdens of sociopolitical niceties we would both find distasteful had I elected to meet with you face to face. I've no intention of inflicting upon myself the scatological facade of jocundity that I've neither time nor patience for. This will be my only communication to you so ignore it at your peril. Do not attempt to locate me. Make no efforts to identify me. Do not be so crude as to assume that there is any association between us. You will regret such bellicose impertinence. I would do myself a disservice by making the assumption that you have not already availed yourself of the newest perspicacious church-shall we agree to the term cult-that has gradually been making its mark in the Starlit Terrace district that monikers itself We Of Lavish Faith. These 52 individuals, captained by one Revered Andrew Martin Crabtree, enjoy spending their waking hours handing out pamphlets and fliers, accosting bystanders with plastic smiles and unfeeling well-wishes, and opening the doors of their church every Sunday morning to provide pancakes and sermons to the homeless. With the information I herein provide you and with the most dire warning of this church I do promulgate that the debt I owe you for saving my life is paid. WOLF is an apt acronym for these people, Dame Wainbridge. For all their outward demonstrations of proper Christian charity and conjecture they are, in fact, hunters empowered by knowledge, by weaponry, and by faith to seek out all entities beyond the pale, such as we ourselves, and put them to the torch. History The roots of this vitriolic pseudo-faith spreads out from the feet of the aforementioned Reverend Crabtree, lee of MoorePark. See the enclosed dossier for information, photographs, and known associates of this otherwise docile seeming sixty-two year old gent marked facially and mentally by the scars of a wild beast having at one point ravaged him almost to beyond recognition. Sixteen years ago this insignificant ecclesiastic was the recipient of an unbelievable cascade of the most potent of misfortune. He was on his way home from a late-night seminar with his wife beside and two sons in back when the motorcar he was piloting found itself in dire straights and required immediate attention. Ostensibly and correcty, Crabtree pulled off of the lonely stretch of road and opened the hood to see what the problem was. Unbeknownst to him, lurking nearby were four of the indecorous creatures we can both identify as lupines, or werewolves to use the vernacular of common society. It is minf understanding after no little tedious information gathering that the lupines had been forewarned of an encroachment of creatures inhospitible to them which would approach by vehicle. Naturally, lacking in even the fundamental basics of verifying that the occupants of Crabtree's motorcar was the very vehicle they sought after the lupines launched a viscious assault. Only Crabtree himself survived and that only because of sheer blind luck: the lupine from which his torn and haggard body hung loosely from hand had a momentary spark of percpicacity and realized that the recipients of their violence were not the quarry they sought. It took Crabtree five years to recover physically with intensive therapy. Psychologically, he never recovered. His grief at the loss of his family teminated in the anger stage. His unmitigated fury was matched only by his unquechable fevor for vengence. He metamorphosed the entire purpose of his church, seeking out those of his congregation whom had suffered situations similar to his own, binding those individuals close to himself and releasing those whom were not. The Church of Lavish Faith became an organization dedicated to tracking down paranormal creatures and exterminating us. In this they have been largely successful. Two mages, a lupine, three Kindred, and two ghosts have been eliminated. WOLF has extensive contacts and allies not only within but also without. Their members comes from a broad strata. Five are military, seven are law enforcement, two are parapsychologists, and the rest are uniform citizenry wih spurnal experiences that have imbued them with an unwavering conviction that what they have witnessed is real, and that every creature such as we ourselves are--regardless of intent or origin--a dire threat. They are extensively armed, thoroughly trained, and unquestionably deadly. Lavish of Note Hatred is nothing to shy away from. Hated is our weapon. Hatred drives us, protects us, and allows us to survive the skirmishes of our war. That is a direct quote from WOLFs founding father Reverend Crabtree, and it is taken to heart by every single member of the church. They use this hate to identify, corner, and destroy every last monster lurking in October City. It seems almost needless to point out that the most potent of WOLF is the Reverend Crabtree himself. As you will see from the photographs included there is nothing extraordinary or special about him. He comes in at six foot and one, with a melodious voice absolutely impeccable for enforcing his message, whether that message be one of love of one another or hate for the monstrosities that haunt October City. Through many of his associates he has dutifully trained himself in firearms large and small, knife-fighting, and a peculiar skill with his weapon of choice: an X-412 military flamethrower. He is facially scarred to obscene levels, the marks of the lupin whom mauled him. Kelly Chupp is WOLF's CFO and right-hand to Crabtree. Like her mentor she is the sole survivor of a violent attack upon herself and her over at the time, a one Thomas Beren while the two were enjoying a peaceful evening in Central City's Kensington Park. She describes her attacker as a white male in jeans and trenchcoat, with elongated canine teeth and the tattoo of an anarchy symbol on the back of his right hand. The attacker drank the life out of Beren and wuld undoubtedly turned his bloodlust upon Chupp herself had it not been for the interference of a third young man. Chupp described this newest arrival as thin with curly grown hair that drove her attacker off with a spectacular display of manifesting globes or spheres of livid flame that destoryed Chupp's attacker. Chupp had no opportunity to thank her rescuer because, after the vampire had been slain, the rescuer himself immolated and turned to ash. I shall assume myself correct that you, Dame, knew this 'hero' and mourn him. I am truly sorry for your loss, so long as you are truly sorry for mine. Thus experienced, Chupp stands alone in WOLF as being the one with extensive knowledge of both Kindred and mage. Thus, Dame Samantha, I leave you to your own musings regard the Church of Lavish Faith. Take this missive as you will, or ignore it utterly and blind yourself to the danger this church proposes. I don't care either way. My debt to you is noe abolished and I owe you nothing further. Afterthought Pandora, Make it known to everyone in the Chantry that we do not muster and attack a WOLF member for the precise reason that we do not declare battle on any individual belonging to the Victorian Society. The repercussions of such an attack would result in WOLF instantly accepting that the fight was started by a supernatural entity. WOLF would then pool their resources into finding the killer...they can..and destroying that monster...they will. Thus, any combat started by or involving a supernatural entity would lay bare the facts and severely enfanger all of us. Please, when you learn that a WOLF lurks among us in sheep's clothing give them absolutely nothing to look for or discover and make swift your retreat. Sam